


Hogwarts, A History

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-24
Updated: 2007-08-02
Packaged: 2019-01-19 22:49:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12419892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: [ Chapter Two ] A weaving of how everything first began and then went irrevocably wrong.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

  
Author's notes: 1  


* * *

**Disclaimer: All belongs to the wonderful JK Rowling.**

**Summary: A tale of Hogwarts, of the founders, of love, friendship, loyalty, betrayal, and magic.**

**There will be slight spoilers in this fic, some mention of certain…things….which is why it will receive the special warning as its summary, but it’s not really a big deal. All the die hard fans have finished the book by now anyway, I’m assuming.**

**And, some of my loyal readers will be excited to learn…yes, I have started work on the next chapter of FMD! =)**

_Prologue_

 

“Well, we did it.” Godric managed, in his unique way, to sound both bored and delighted, pride smattering across his expression fleetingly. 

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Helga said, beaming as she squeezed Rowena’s arm. 

Rowena smiled serenely, her lovely features aglow. “If it is not the most wonderful creation to have ever been made, I would like to see what is.” 

Salazar sniffed. “You’re looking at him.”

There was a pause. Godric’s mouth twitched, Helga bit at her lower lip desperately, Rowena’s nostrils flared, and then all four of them burst into laughter, embracing each other. 

They gazed up at Hogwarts, at their dream that had finally swept to them out of slumber. And yet, there was still so much that had to be done. 

Godric blinked, shaking his head so his hat shifted to one side, nearly falling onto the ground. One hand resting on the sword hilt at his side, he calmly regarded the school, the grounds, his friends.

“This is only the beginning, isn’t it?”

And so it was. 


	2. Chapter One [ About Leaving and Returning ]

The rain seemed to hold very little chance of letting up any time soon. Godric stared out the window with his teeth gritted, his expression a complex mixture of longing, irritation, and amusement. The droplets fell against the window in response, streaming down the glass in tiny rivers. He sighed and turned, sounding exasperated.

“Just one tiny weather charm?”

“This whole idea was yours and yours alone, so I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

His mother’s smile was gentle, but slightly stern in the eyes. 

“It wasn’t my _idea_ ,” he protested, but he knew it was in vain. 

“It was your idea to keep up the tradition,” she replied, her tone as dry and bored as his often was, knowing the argument was essentially over. 

He sighed again and shot a slightly desperate glance down at his hands, turning his wand over and over in his grip, as if memorizing the feel of its surface. In all honesty, he was slightly relieved to be delayed in his departure. 

He stood and stretched, still holding onto his wand. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror across the room and hesitated for a moment, studying his reflection. He looked, he was often told, like a youthful version of his father: red hair, green eyes, tall, imposing figure. 

A sudden fierce knocking at the door startled them both. Godric strode to answer it, but it burst open before he got there. A swift breeze swept through the room, the sound of the rain grew louder, as if it had found a way through the ceiling into the house. 

“Signey!” he exclaimed, eyes widening.

She ran at him, clutching at his shirt even as he snatched up a blanket to wrap around her shoulders. Her clothes and hair were soaked through, dripping onto the floor. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Gryffindor,” she said distractedly, but her eyes were on Godric’s.

“Hello, Signey,” Godric’s mother replied, looking both concerned and sympathetic. “Let me find you some dry clothes.” 

And she swept subtly from the room in her graceful way, tossing her long black hair over her shoulder.   

“Happy Birthday,” Signey murmured when they were alone, her eyes now focused on the floor.

Godric laughed, the deep boom that seemed to shake within his chest. “I trust you did not travel all the way here through this storm just to wish me a joyous seventeenth.”

“It was only down the road,” she muttered, her cheeks reddening. She had yet to release her hold on his shirt, and his own face flushed slightly at the proximity between them. 

“And yet you brought a town’s worth of rain with you,” he said, but his tone was jesting. 

“You can’t go!” she burst out, looking shocked at her outburst, but stubborn and pleading. 

“I must,” he said gently, touching a hand to her cheek. 

“It’s a sign,” she begged, her eyes meeting his again, and the torment within them clutched at his heart. 

“What, this silly storm? Just nature having a bit of a joke on me. Practically a drought all year long, then the day I plan to take a trip…”

“ _Exactly_ ,” Signey replied, her lips curving southward, “it’s not meant to be, _please_.”

Godric frowned, too, both saddened at the pain he was causing her and yet toughened against it. “I’m sorry. But I’ve told you already: this is something I’ve got to do.” 

“You know, Papa thinks you’re crazy! A non-magic year! Venturing off into _who-knows-where_ without your wand!”

Godric’s mouth tightened slightly. “Your father is allowed to have an opinion. Luckily, it isn’t always correct.” 

Signey looked slightly desperate. “But no magic at _all?_ Do you know how dangerous it is out there?”

Godric smiled. “People all over the world get by just fine. I will, too. I need to…well, I’ve told you this already, Sig, I need to really, truly appreciate magic.” 

“But why _now?_ Wait a while, grow a little, stay with me.”

“It’s got to be now. I’m seventeen. My wand is only going to get stronger now that I’m of age. I mean, my father went on his journey when he was _sixteen_. My mother wouldn’t let me go because…well, she shares your father’s opinion. But, Sig, I’ve got to learn who I am without magic, you know? Before I truly rely on it for the rest of my life.” 

There was a brief silence, broken only by the rain outside. When she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. “Do you really hate life in The Hollow that much?”

He started, pulling her closer instinctively. “Merlin, no! Signey Dearborn, you _know_ that I have loved every second of growing up here.”

Her eyes filled with tears too suddenly for him to stop them. He hesitated, and then kissed the spots where they fell, wishing she could understand. 

“I’m just so scared you won’t come back,” she whispered.

“I promise,” he said vehemently, gripping her hands tightly in his own. “I _swear_ I’ll come back for you.”

She stared up at him, disbelief evident on her beautiful face. 

“I’ll prove it,” he insisted, and without thinking, pulled out his wand again, shoving into her hands. 

“Keep this with you, keep it safe,” he said, eyes determined on hers. “I’ll come back for it, and for you.” 

She held up the wand, eyes wide and marveling. “I’ll guard it with my _life_.”

He smiled slightly, picturing the field where his father was buried, having been planning on leaving his prized possession there, the safest place he knew, so he would not be tempted to use it over the next year. “I know you will.” 

He adjusted the ragged old hat on his head and straightened up, looking out the window. “Look,” he said, beaming, “the sun’s peeking out.”

“I guess it is,” she said, and though she was smiling, it was only to keep from crying. 

“This isn’t goodbye,” he said, blinking. “It’s not goodbye until one of us dies.” 

“Of course not,” she agreed, and her expression appeared to brighten slightly. 

“You’re leaving, then?” His mother had reappeared in the doorway. 

Godric nodded. 

She sighed. “Owl every once in a while?”

He smiled. “Every chance I get.” 

“Oh, come here, then,” she said, and crossed the room to draw him against her in a strong embrace.

_Just like your father_ , he thought he heard her murmur, but he couldn’t be sure. 

“Don’t be stupid out there,” she told him, waving a finger in his face. 

Signey gave a half-hearted chuckle. “As if he could go a day managing that.”

Godric grumbled under his breath jokingly. “And you two wonder why I want to leave.” 

“Well, _go,_ ” his mother finally said. “Before the storm picks up again.” 

He readjusted his hat again, picking up his sack. His mother’s eyes followed his movements. “Must you really wear that old cap out there? People will think you’re homeless.”

“Dad wore it on his journey. And, technically, I am homeless for the next year, so people will be right.”

His mother sighed, kissed his cheeks, and promptly burst into tears. “Oh, go on, then.” 

“I love you,” he said, to both of them, and they both smiled tightly. 

And he walked out the door, certain that he would indeed return one day, but unable to shake the feeling that he’d never really be back here again. 

 

**A few things:**

**1.)** **I know they wouldn’t have talked like this a thousand years ago, which is when the four founders were sposed to have lived. I feel like Old English is annoying to both read and write, so I’m writing modern dialogue. I’m sorry if you feel that’s not staying true to the story, but, well…I don’t know. Just, sorry, I guess?**

**2.)** **I plan to write from all four founders’ perspectives eventually, but Godric’s will be the main point of view that I use.**

**3.)** **I expect future chapters to be longer, but I’m tired and this felt like a good place to stop.**

**4.)** **Please review. I’m not very confident about this story, and I feel like I’m going to be leaving out details that Rowling has put out there, and while I am going to be putting my own ideas into this, I’d like to stay as true to the world as possible.**

**5.)** **Thank you for reading!**

**lark**


	3. Chapter Two [ About Running and Forgetting ]

“I will _not_ marry him, Mother, and that! is! that!”

Rosmerta’s eyes narrowed, forming the expression her daughter had learned to fear. “Rowena Ravenclaw, you will marry _Cedric the peddler_ if I say so. Now, you are seventeen years old. When will you begin to act like it?”

“If acting seventeen years old means marrying Tomac Arronson, then I shall grow old at sixteen!”

Rosmerta closed her eyes, as if begging some otherworldly power for patience. “What, may I ask, is so terribly wrong with Tomac?”

Rowena straightened, hands on hips. “I _told_ you. He’s…he’s a spoiled brat, a skirt chaser, and _I don’t love him!_ ” 

“Half the girls in this town would _kill_ to be in your shoes, do you know that? You will _learn_ to love him!”

“You make it sound like…like archery or knitting or cooking!” Rowena shrieked. “It’s not something you _learn,_ it’s something you feel! And I will never, in my entire life, feel anything but pity and disgust for him!” 

“Do not raise your voice at me, Rowena.” Her mother moved toward the door. “Your father has already said yes to Anders, he will be here this afternoon to ask you as a formality. Do not embarrass the family, do you understand me?”

“Of course, Mother, I understand.” The sweetness in her voice should have raised her mother’s suspicions, but then again, she’d always firmly believed that she’d gotten her intelligence from her father. 

“Well, freshen up. Wear that blue gown your father bought you; it matches your eyes.”

As soon as her mother was gone, Rowena darted to the wardrobe, changing into the dress that her mother had recommended. She tore through the drawers, finding at the bottom her secret stash of Galleons. And under the bed, a sack of clothes, ready for travel. She tossed it over her shoulder, chanced a glance in the mirror, hazarded a slight smile. 

And then she climbed through the window and disappeared into the collapsing sunshine. 

Rowena stuck to the veiled woods for the remainder of the day, but once night fell, allowed her feet to find the road. In her haste, she’d forgotten her shoes. She knew the bottoms of her feet were probably black by now, but she didn’t mind. She enjoyed having solid evidence that even if her life had just flipped upside down on her, the world was still steady beneath her toes. 

Finally, she paused in front of a dark brown cottage. She hopped over the gate, patted the guard dog on the head, and slipped around to the back, picking up a rock on her way. She lobbed it high as she found the window she was looking for; it clattered against the glass and seemed to nearly smash it. 

There was an eerie silence and then her best friend’s familiar face appeared in the window, staring down at her. Moments later, the back door open and she came flying out into the yard in her nightgown, her hands gesturing wildly, her eyes panicked.

“Rowena Ravenclaw, what is the meaning of this? First your parents come here, _during supper_ , looking for you, pretending it’s not a big deal that _they don’t know where you are!_ And now, here you are in the dead of night, throwing…throwing rocks at my window?! Have you lost your mind?”

Rowena smiled and waited. 

“Oh, _alright_ , come here.” 

Helga Hufflepuff stepped closer and wrapped her up in a tight hug. “It’s not as if we haven’t had late night adventures, Rowena, but…are you running away this time?”

Rowena hesitated, the bag on her back seeming to grow heavier ominously. 

“I can’t marry Tomac.”

“Of course not,” Helga agreed calmly. 

Rowena bit at her lip, glancing down towards the ground. They’d brought her here, these bare feet of hers, traveling down the road she often felt she’d worn out through her childhood, having spent so much time at Helga’s house. It had been her intention to arrive to say goodbye, for the thought of not seeing her best friend one last time had been enough to make her want to turn around, slip that ring on her finger. Now that she was here, though, shifting her weight from foot to foot, anxious energy making her nervous, she couldn’t quite bring herself to divert her path from Helga’s. 

She looked up at Helga again, at the full, vibrant face that waited expectantly, almost knowingly. 

“I’m not much of a cook,” she began, somewhat sheepishly. 

“No, you’re not,” Helga said, smiling. 

There was another silence. Rowena looked up at the sky, blinked at the stars. The whole world was out there, ready, needing to be explored, understood. 

When she met Helga’s bright eyes once more, her own were a little dazed. 

“Come with me?”

“I’ve had my bag packed for days, love. Wait here.” 

Rowena’s mouth fell open. “But I didn’t even know I was leaving until this afternoon.”

Helga smiled slightly. “You forget that sometimes I know you better than you know yourself.” 

She turned to go into the house, presumably to change and grab her traveling pack. 

“Errr…” Rowena said, her fair cheeks reddening slightly.

“Yes?”

“Could I perhaps….borrow some shoes? And a hat? And…a traveling cloak? And, I didn’t have time to grab any food…”

Helga laughed, clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound. 

“I feel like Tomac just dodged an arrow.”

She went into the house still chuckling, ignoring Rowena’s glower. 

They set off into the darkness minutes later, leaving behind their childhood. For the moment, though, they still had each other. 

 

 

**I’ve been doing some research on the founders and yes, I know, the clues don’t add up to Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff having been born/raised near each other. However, they _were_ very good friends, and, for the purposes of my story, lifelong ones. I’m trying to keep it as canon as possible and the articles I read are mainly speculation, so I don’t think it’s such a big deal. **

**Review, please! Thank you for reading.**

**love** **, lark**


End file.
